Private Inquisitor Jak Barley wonders if his drinking cohorts at the King¹s Wart Inn are playing an elaborate prank on him. THE CASE OF THE SEVEN DWARVES

Private Inquisitor Jak
Barley wonders if his drinking cohorts at the King¹s Wart Inn are playing an
elaborate prank on him. What else is he to think when seven dwarves want his
help against a wicked witch they blame for poisoning an innocent young maiden
staying with them named Frost Ivory?

EXCERPT:

"This
reminds me of a humorous fable," I observed while eying Snot, the dwarf,
with suspicion. "A priest, a shaman, and a soothsayer walked into a
tavern. The innkeeper looks up at the three, pauses, and says, 'Is this some
kind of joke?'"

The
dwarves eyed me in what appeared to be honest befuddlement.

"What
I'm trying to say is, you wouldn't be joking me, would you Snot?" I
continued the conversation as I meaningfully fingered the hilt of the short
saber hanging from my belt.

The
squat dwarf (of course all dwarves are short and stout) vigorously shook his
head no. So did his six brothers lined up behind him. They were a grimy band. I
had arrived before any of them were able to wash off the coal dust after a long
day at their small mine. The shaft was located halfway up the hill behind their
quaint little cottage.

I
hate quaint.

They
looked at up at me with what appeared to be a heartfelt faith that I could help
them. That was questionable enough. Dwarves and puppy dog eyes do not go together.
The little beggars are usually a villainous lot, digging about for whatever
their stock specializes in. Those furrowing for precious metals and jewels make
up the greediest and least trustful broods.

But
these were coal dwarves, looked down upon by their more affluent cousins. Since
coal dwarves are not averse to trading the fruits of their labor, they also
mingled the most freely with humans.

Still,
I felt as if my cronies at the King's Wart Inn were setting me up for a jest. I
turned again to the glass coffin containing the pallid, young woman. Her beauty
made my chest tighten, a feeling alike to the way a very sweet confectionery
can make your teeth ache.

Her
skin was as white as her hair was black. The girl's garb matched her features,
a black dress with a front that plunged to reveal a white blouse strained by
her full breasts. Until now, I would not have believed anyone could have had
such an innocent and yet seductive face--open like a child's, but with just a
hint of adult sensuousness about her mouth

I
turned again to Snot, so named because he seemed always to be suffering from a
cold. "I will take the bait. What happened to your Frost Ivory?"

"A
wicked witch fed her a poison apple."

"I
am out of here," I said with renewed wariness. "That is it. Seven
dwarves, a spellbound maiden, and a wicked witch. Do I look to be the fool?
Next you will be telling me that...?

I
stopped dead in my rebuke. Several bluebirds had swooped in to drop a wreath of
heather and violets upon the coffin. At the base of the glass encasement lurked
two doe-eyed bunnies, the missus wearing an apron and bonnet. They were
wringing their little rabbit paws and forlornly gazing up at the still figure.

It
was too much. The husband hare in the straw hat was not quick enough. I dove
and caught the rascal before he could dart into the surrounding shrubbery.

"All
right, my fine furry fellow. What be this charade? What jest do you play?"

His
reply was but a squeak. I shook him once then glanced to see the dwarves
staring at me in alarm. I looked back to the rabbit to see it gaping at me in
stark terror.